


why not go for broke

by playingforkeeps



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: (Used Toward Oneself), Angst with a Happy Ending, Derek "Nursey" Nurse is Unchill, First Kiss, Homophobic Language, I'm Sorry, Internalized Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 10:27:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7841239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/playingforkeeps/pseuds/playingforkeeps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nursey's arms on the arms of his chair are caging him in and he’s really, unfairly close, panting harder than he should be. His lips are just a little parted, barely enough to give away any emotion, but his pupils are blown so wide that Will can see himself in them. It’s open in a way he’s not used to, like he’s seeing <i>Derek</i> instead of <i>Nursey</i>, and it’s so raw it takes his breath away for a second. Nursey's eyebrows twitch up, a challenge that twists wrong in Will’s stomach.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <i>Fuck it.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	why not go for broke

It’s three in the morning and Will is starting to realize that he won’t be getting any sleep. He’s been tossing and turning for hours, counting sheep, reciting the alphabet backwards, everything he can think of. And it’s all Nursey’s fault.

See, Will’s dad always said the same thing: you get what you work for. No more, no less. So Will had worked three jobs in high school to pay for his truck, balanced it with hockey five days a week, spent months on his uncle’s boat to pay for school. Even here, he throws himself into every practice and fixes things up for his friends at the Haus. Not being useful makes him nervous. No, not nervous, anxious, the kind that balls itself up in his stomach and weighs him down during the day. He's always been pretty sure everyone feels like this, which is why it's never been a problem.

Until now, that is. Because he wants Nursey. And it's not something he can earn.

That’s the worst part of it, not that he wants a guy but that it had to be Nursey. The guy who scribbled half a sonnet on Will’s calc homework because “it was in my head, Dex, I just needed to get it down”. The guy who didn’t understand that not everyone had the means to "just be a poet". The guy who managed to spill an entire tray of coffee over himself and still look good. Objectively, he’s the last guy Will should ever have feelings for, and a little part of him even hates Nursey for it.

The week before, he’d seen Nursey with a guy at a party, tongues halfway down each other’s throats, and known they were going to leave together. Nursey kisses people with abandon: boys, girls, anyone in between; he takes them home with no worries of a football player with a forty of Bud and a bad idea. Will, on the other hand, can’t even talk to a guy without seeing Tommy Wertzner’s broken nose and black eyes after everyone back home found out he was on Grindr.

_Faggot_.

The word flashes in his head before he can stop it, and he flinches a little, tugging the blanket further over his shoulders. He can’t say what it is, what he is, without something telling him how wrong he is, and Nursey’s never going to understand that. He can’t earn the right to want him. 

So now Will’s facedown in bed with the object of his fucking affection less than ten feet away and a class at 8am because apparently he has a deathwish on top of anything else, and he wants to die a little bit more than ever. _Fuck everything_ , he thinks bitterly, and pulls his pillow over his head.

*

Three days later, maybe four, Will finds himself at his desk on a party night again. He’s switching between a particularly nasty problem set and studying what they know about Boston College’s offensive strategy, which is tough enough without having to try to ignore the bass pounding through the floorboards. Technically, actually, it’s his and Nursey's shared desk, as evidenced by the sticky notes of poetry scraps covering every available surface. Will’s sleeve keeps catching on one that reads “rinse out the smell of obligation” every time he reaches for a sip of coffee.

He scowls at it. Obligation, he thinks, smells like cleaning lobster traps at five in the morning and female prom dates two years in a row. It doesn’t smell like having a place in the Hamptons to escape to when the city gets too busy. Nursey always calls it that— _the city_ , never _New York_ or _Manhattan_ , like it’s the only city that matters. Like his life is the only one anyone should think about.

In a fit of resentment, he sweeps his arm across the desk, pushing the post-it's off like a neon snowstorm. Nursey can clean them up. It’ll probably be the first time he’s ever cleaned a thing in his life.

As if on cue, the door swings open. Nursey stands there in dead silence, taking in the scowl on Will face and the papers on the floor. They make eye contact. Will thinks that if there is a God, He must be extremely vengeful or at least think this is funny. After a moment, Nursey whets his lips and speaks. “So, what’d they do to you?”

Will flushes and turns back to his work. “In the way,” he mutters angrily, trying to ignore Nursey's less-than-subtle amusement. He tries to work, but Nursey isn't leaving and it makes him so self-conscious that he finally addresses him. “Can I help you?”

Nursey hesitates briefly before crossing the room and flopping spread-eagle onto Will’s bed, halfway propped up on his elbows. He stretches slowly ( _languid_ , Will thinks, and then shakes his head to clear it) so his shirt rides up at his waist, exposing a happy trail that Will definitely doesn't stare at. It seems unfair that the ten percent of the time Nursey isn't tripping over his own feet, he always seems much more graceful than anyone in the room.

He's still staring at Will.

A second passes. Will’s face burns in the worst way. He grimaced, squirms, and finally turns back to Nursey and spits, “What do you _want_?”

Nursey swings his legs and sits up, raising an eyebrow. “I want you to come downstairs and and enjoy yourself,” he answers, sounding surprisingly sober for a party night. “It’s Friday, Dex, come on. You never come out anymore.”

“I have to work,” he mutters. “Fuck off.” He doesn’t mean to be hurtful, but Nursey's face drops all the same.

“You always have to do something. Don’t you ever have fun?”

“Some of us can’t afford to do that,” Will snaps, picking up his pencil again. The double meaning isn’t intentional, but it isn’t lost on him, and he doesn’t miss how Nursey’s shoulders tense up when he says it. It’s a little satisfying to see him lose his chill a bit. So he prods a little further, looking for a little more of a rise. “I mean, not all of us were raised in fucking brownstones, huh?”

Nursey starts to protest, but it feels too good to get it out that Will keeps going. “Not all of us got private educations, right? Fucking rich brats like you, breaking shit and fixing it with daddy’s money. Some of us had to work to get where they are. Some of us can’t _afford_ to take every fucking Friday night off and dance on fucking tables. You ever thought about that?”

“Fuck you.” Nursey spits the words, face full of a vitriol Will’s never seen in him. His face twists like he’s either about to cry or yell and hasn’t decided which yet. “It’s not my fault you have that goddamn stick up your ass. You act so high and fucking mighty but you’re not anyone better than anybody else. Do you even think about how anyone feels? I was a black Muslim kid with two moms at fucking _Andover_ , Dex, and that was pretty damn hard. But no, you’re too stuck in your own little world for anyone else to matter. You’ve never had to worry about fitting in in your life.”

_Faggot_ , Will’s brain reminds him, but he doesn’t look away from Nursey. That only seems to rile Nursey up more—God, it’s satisfying to see him lose his chill—and he jumps up, crossing the room to grab Will’s chair and spin him around. He crowds into Will’s space and spits, “You’re always going on about what you have to do. What do you want? Huh, Dex? Yeah, I’m irresponsible, and I can be pretty dumb, but at least I’m free. You’ve never done what you wanted a day in your life. What do you fucking _want_?”

When Will thinks back later, this is how it happens:

Nursey's arms on the arms of his chair are caging him in and he’s really, unfairly close, panting harder than he should be. His lips are just a little parted, barely enough to give away any emotion, but his pupils are blown so wide that Will can see himself in them. It’s open in a way he’s not used to, like he’s seeing _Derek_ instead of _Nursey_ , and it’s so raw it takes his breath away for a second. Nursey's eyebrows twitch up, a challenge that twists wrong in Will’s stomach.

_Fuck it._

Without giving himself a chance to second-guess it, he lunges up, wraps a hand around the back of Nursey’s neck, and kisses him hard.

Nursey doesn’t kiss back.

In fact, Nursey doesn’t even move except to move back, and Will collapses back into his chair with his bones going cold. This is the worst thing that possibly could have happened. He’s going to have to leave the school, the state, the _country_ , and even then he wouldn’t get away from Nursey's stupid fucking smirk because now he knows how much Will wants him, how desperate he’s been for months sleeping a few feet away from him. He can feel his shoulders hunch and hates it.

Nursey, on the other hand, looks anything but defensive. His eyes are wide, lips curling slowly into the beginnings of a smile like he knows exactly what Will is thinking. “How long have you wanted to do that?”

Will blinks hard. _Since you called me “freckles” at orientation_ , his mind supplies helpfully. “How _long_?” he manages hoarsely, swallowing around the lump quickly building in his throat.

“You heard me,” Nursey grins, and now Will is going to have to leave the fucking planet because Nursey’s goddamn smile hints at the thousand years of teasing he can feel coming. “How long have you wanted to kiss me?”

Will shrugs as he mentally plans out the logistics of living the rest of his life in space. “Fuck, I don't know. It was an impulse?”

While he's having his internal breakdown, Nursey finally laughs, clapping a hand over his mouth. _At least he's getting it over with_ , Will thinks, even as his brain choruses _faggot faggot faggot faggot faggot_. He vaguely remembers seeing The Martian and wonders if he could survive on potatoes alone. When he finally has the guts to speak, all he can ask is, “Can you stop?”

Nursey shuts up right away, but Will still can’t bring himself to look up. He buries his face in his hands, eyes burning like he’s about to cry. Above him, he hears Nursey asks, “Dex?” and crosses the room to kneel in front of him. There’s a hand on his knee and another resting on his elbow. “Dex,” Nursey whispers, “come on. Talk to me.”

It takes everything Will has to drop his hands and look up, but when he does, Nursey is practically glowing. He looks like Will’s just handed him the world on a plate. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted you to do that?” Nursey asks, lifting a hand to tuck Will’s hair back, and Will thinks for a second that he’s dreaming but he can’t let himself wake up because Nursey is leaning forward to kiss him.

They crash together in the middle, Will nearly bowling Nursey over with his enthusiasm, and if the kiss is a little sloppy it can be excused because this is Will’s first kiss with a guy, his first real kiss. He can’t get over how right it all feels. Nursey is warm and pliant against him at first, but when Will buries his hands in Nursey’s hair and yanks, Nursey moans so loudly that Will can feel it reverberating against his mouth. It’s absolutely the best thing he’s ever heard—that is, until Nursey groans, “God, _Will_ ,” and then he’s not thinking about anything but how good this is.

He’s not totally sure how they manage to get up, but somehow Nursey maneuvers them so he’s got both arms tight around Will and they’re falling backward towards his bed. They scramble back on the mattress, Nursey’s teeth clicking against Will’s and Will tugging Nursey's belt loops to pull him in because he can't seem to get him close enough. And Nursey—God, he's so hard—keeps letting little needy noises slip out as Will pulls at his hair. _He_ wants _me_ , Will thinks, shocked and delighted and desperate all at once. Nursey bites gently at his neck as he grinds down, and Will nearly comes right then and there. He probably would have were it not the exact moment Nursey wriggles a hand between them to palm at the bulge under Will’s jeans.

Tommy Wertzner’s bloody face flashes into his mind and he jerks away, unable to stop the overwhelming wave of wrongness crashing over him. _Faggot_.

“Stop,” he blurts as his hands fly up between them. He doesn't quite shove Nursey off the bed, but it's a close thing. Nursey, who'd been straddling Will’s lap, pushes back to perch at his feet instead. Will’s face is hot with shame. “We have to stop.”

Nursey bites his lip. “Will,” he says softly, “we don't have to do anything you don't want to. What's wrong?”

He tries to rest a hand on Will’s shin, but Will shakes him off. His skin is prickling and he's still uncomfortably half-hard, missing Nursey's heat. Carefully, Nursey shifts to sit cross-legged at the end of the bed. There's still a flush high on his cheeks, but he moves like Will is a scared animal he's trying to coax out. Will draws his legs to his chest without meeting Nursey's eyes. “Shit,” he mutters, staring at his knees. “Shit.”

“Will,” Nursey says again, his tone a little more definite. “Will, we can stop, but you've gotta tell me what's wrong. I thought… Do you not want this?”

“No! I mean, yes! That's not it—I mean— _ugh_!” Will can't seem to get the words out right, and Nursey's eyes are so soft and expectant. He presses his face into his knees so it comes out muffled. “God, I want this, I want _you_ , but I _can't_.”

“Why not?”

“Because it's wrong!” Will explodes. “You, and me, and this”—gesturing wildly between them—”isn't right. Guys aren’t supposed to…you know...” 

He trails off. Nursey exhales, shoulders slumping over, and stays silent for a long moment. “Christ, somebody really did a number on you, didn't they?”

His voice, surprisingly, isn't pitying; it's sympathetic, but under that is barely suppressed rage. It takes a second for Will to register that the anger isn't directed at him, and he shrugs helplessly without looking up. “I guess?”

Nursey starts to move, but pauses and asks, “Can I?” At Will’s nod, he shifts close enough to rest his hand on top of Will’s. “Hey. Look at me,” he whispers.

Tentatively, Will lifts his head to look Nursey in the face. He's surprised to see Nursey's eyes bright with tears and some emotion he can’t quite place. “Jeez, Nursey, are you okay?” he blurts, flipping his hand over to lace his fingers with Nursey's.

At that, Nursey lets out a sharp laugh. “Christ, dude, you're unbelievable,” he mumbles as he swipes a hand over his eyes. “You're here having a goddamn breakdown and you want to know if _I'm_ alright.” He runs his thumb along Will’s knuckles, and Will relishes the little shiver down his spine.

“I care about you, you fuck.” Admitting it feels like a standing up straight for the first time in years. “As more than a friend.” He can't quite bring himself to say what he is yet, but he's brave enough to scoot a little closer to Nursey, who grins in response.

“I like you too, kind of a lot. We’re gonna be alright,” Nursey says, then adds “Yeah, Poindorkster?” And suddenly they're Dex and Nursey again, trading chirps like nothing happened.

He bumps Nursey’s shoulder with his own, and Nursey leans over to kiss him once on the forehead, once on the nose, and finally on the mouth: a soft, sweet thing completely unlike the frantic ones they shared before. Will, who's apparently feeling incredibly courageous today, lets himself kiss back. It's a start.

**Author's Note:**

> title from "fuck it' by days n daze. "life's a game, life's a joke, fuck it, why not go for broke? trade in all your chips and learn how to be free."
> 
> honestly, i really identify with dex as an anxious queer programmer-in-training with a lot of internalized homophobia, so this was a little cathartic to write. also, i totally overused the italics, but dex is nothing if not emphatic.
> 
> partially based of the time the person i liked kissed me and i was so surprised and happy that i forgot to kiss them back, which led to a very awkward conversation of "no i like you do that again you just caught me off guard". this one is also dedicated to Kim, whose headcanons are my reason for living, and ngozi, who created these incredible characters.
> 
> find me on [tumblr](playing-for-keeps.tumblr.com).


End file.
